“This council-house,” said the girl. “Mebbe not look here soon. Best hide up there!”
She hurriedly pointed overhead to rude beams laid across from side to side. Half the space was floored with small rough logs. The cabin had evidently been reared by some French trapper. With a lightning movement Scarred Eagle lifted her up, almost as soon as the suggestion was made, and as she obtained a footing he sprung up after her.
For the time they were safe. Words can give no idea of the excitement and confusion that now prevailed. It was frenzied. The last fifteen minutes had marked the death of Heavy Sleep and the renegade, the escape of Mace, the occurrence of the shots; and as a climax, some other deadly, unseen foe had snatched one from captivity on whom the savages had calculated to execute a terrible vengeance! No wonder these events, so rapidly succeeding each other, made them crazy with alarm and confusion.
Scarred Eagle and Moorooine lost not a second in moving close to the eaves of the roof and stretching themselves at length.
They heard the baffled savages darting around the outside of the cabin. Some of them entered it, but were evidently satisfied with the fact that no one was below, without thinking to look aloft. Others ran rapidly to the north, east and west, beating every spot that might for a moment conceal a fugitive.
Scarred Eagle was able to judge very nearly of the disposition of his enemies. He knew that at least half a dozen were after Mace. He little feared for the latter; but ever since the shots came, he feared that those at the retreat had unwittingly led the savages to suspect their hiding-place. In that case the capture of all would be only a question of time.
He realized the precarious situation of himself and the Indian girl: at any moment they might be discovered. Still there was a hope—a bare chance that they might remain there till night came. Pending that time there seemed not the least possible chance of escape, even should they remain undiscovered.
In half an hour it was fully light. Meantime, from the shouts and cries, Rhodan knew the searchers were still at work. On every side of the village the search had been keen and simultaneous. How would it end?
Through a crevice in the logs he managed, at last, to get a view of the ground near the subterranean passage. It was not occupied, and the fact cheered him. It was evident that the savages believed the daring authors of the shots had escaped down the banks of the river. Some were still absent on their trail, leaving the rest to look for the daring enemy who had liberated the Indian girl.
These soon returned to the center of the village. There was about a score of them in all. Their looks showed that their poor success was operating on their superstitious notions. Could it be possible they believed their last unknown enemy had escaped, and that they had given o’er the search?